Little Gem
by Mara Sevvie
Summary: Each and every fear that Carlisle imagined since finding out about Renesmee's rapid growth cycle hit him full in the face, a revelation too powerful to withstand. In a rare, inhuman fit of supreme rage and helplessness, he swiped half the texts off his desk and watched with vindictive savagery as it all smashed through the windows to the mossy ground below. -Sequel to 'Emotionless'


Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, it belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment, etc. I make no profit off of this story.

A/N: The second of two one-shots about Carlisle and Renesmee. I highly recommend reading _Emotionless_ first.

Enjoy!

**Little Gem**

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With a growl of frustration too low to be heard outside his office, Carlisle Cullen shoved aside the text he had been comparing to the online resource he found minutes before. A waste, that's what it was. An utter waste of time and energy to compare the two blasted texts, neither of which had any useful information about what he researched.

There was nothing!

_Nothing _to explain his dilemma or enhance his studies or even compare his findings to. Not a single, solitary drop of information about premature aging or the effects of vampire venom on a hybrid child! Hardly anything about a situation even remotely like the one they currently faced was available. Of what use was his research if it all proved completely fruitless? All of it was an entirely wasted effort; _three months_ of wasted time that could have been spent showering his little grandchild with as much love and devotion as he could possibly offer her in her brief lifetime!

Even as he thought of her, that beautiful little girl his son and daughter-in-law had created out of love, Renesmee spoke downstairs for the _first time_. The word were something the doctor was altogether too distracted to comprehend, but her sweet and melodic little voice penetrated Carlisle's thoughts like a freshly-sharpened dagger, to remind him of his increasingly disgusting inequity.

What on earth had made him so stupid and foolish as to keep digging through texts, rather than digging through books with his grandchild? Instead of staring at the computer screen for hours and hours on end, he could have been staring at a movie with his granddaughter. When he had written now-useless notes on her changing condition, he could have been drawing pictures with her. The possibilities were endless and Carlisle disgusted himself by thinking of all the ways he had failed to make those possibilities into realities for Renesmee. Minutes or hours may have passed in that pointless fashion, until he had to close off the ideas in order to keep his mental faculties working properly.

Running his hands through his collar-length blond hair more agitatedly than he had ever done in his life, the doctor felt so useless it made him sick to the point of nearly gagging on his own venom. Only a powerful strength of will kept him from precisely this instinctive reaction.

And then in a rare, inhuman fit of supreme rage and total helplessness, Carlisle roughly swiped half the old and important texts off the surface of the desk and watched with vindictive savagery as it all smashed straight through the three largest, West-facing windows and far out onto the mossy ground below, glittering shards of crystalline glass tumbling out along with them in slow motion.

Everything in the house, every word and movement and musical note, ceased instantly. Carlisle could even hear the last of the glass particles tinkling against the ground outside, until finally it was silent out there, as well, and all that was left was the wind whispering in through the freshly opened space.

The doctor prepared himself for an onslaught of concern that he did not want to face. Eyes closed and head bowed slightly forward, the pale-haired vampire breathed deeply in an intense effort at calming his unfettered mind. If Edward were there… well, simply put if the young man had not wondered over Carlisle's sanity before, he would have been sure to do so now.

Glancing thoughtlessly at the wall of books that lined one half of his office and the paintings hung on the other half – nostalgia that all seemed so senseless and pointless in the face of his young new granddaughter – the usually-calm vampire just barely stifled a sob of absolute grief for his carelessness. As it was, a ragged breath left his throat like a fire not dissimilar to the burn of blood-lust.

Raising a hand to his chest as if to hold in the helpless pain, Carlisle was startled by the sound of a breath of murmuring and long, swift strides that were achingly familiar. He did not want to see that face just then…

Forcing the emotions down with as much strength and determination as he felt he could safely manage without furthering his own breakdown, Carlisle turned with a polite expression to face the wretchedly worried face of his eldest son from just outside the doorway. Looking away almost immediately to escape Edward's particularly disturbed eyes, the doctor found himself facing the childlike yet knowing gaze of Renesmee, whose small body was safely ensconced in her father's careful arms.

"Is something wrong?" Carlisle made himself speak. "No one is hurt, are they?"

Oh, he knew perfectly well why Edward and Renesmee were up in his office. It just wouldn't do to admit his moment of insane rage. Especially not in front of his poor little granddaughter. She had enough troubles to be getting on with, nevermind her grandfather's relentless failings and character flaws.

"No, _we're_ all okay, grandpa," Renesmee assured him softly, that perfect soprano voice shocking him with its girlish beauty and the inflection in her words giving him pause. She was smiling half-heartedly at him and looking entirely more scared of him than he ever wanted her to be.

Edward's sad sigh was unexpected and Carlisle started at the sudden intrusive sound. He barely caught the depressed look on his son's face when he glanced up. "Show him quickly, pet."

Biting her pouty pink lip, the little girl nodded back at her father. Edward stepped close enough for Renesmee to lean right across to her grandfather, reaching for him to take her into his arms. Puzzled and still glaringly upset over his previous experience with his research, Carlisle hesitantly reached over to hoist his feather light granddaughter onto one hip. Without a word, Renesmee laid her soft, tiny hand against his face with sweetened care and showed him images of such sadness that he could have cried.

There were dozens of exhilarating instances, moments of utter thrill that she had enjoyed thoroughly. At least until she realized her grandpa was not there to see it. Even her attempts at drinking formula, disgusting as she found the stuff, were memories she thought about with fondness because Grandpa was the only one who did it with her. Innumerable little minutes that Renesmee had wanted to share with him because no one else appreciated them quite like he did... and Carlisle had been missing from each and every one of them.

And then – the last of these painfully poignant reminders – the very words Renesmee had spoken in the main room not much earlier.

"_Momma, where is Grandpa?"_ she had asked of her mother. What Carlisle would not have known otherwise, were the thoughts that accompanied her query.

_Does he not want to see me? Did I make him angry? He's gone so much and he never plays with me. He doesn't even try getting me to drink formula anymore..._

His grandbaby was asking for him. Asking for _him_! Carlisle Cullen, her grandfather!

As rapidly as the excitement of this idea entered him, it just as swiftly flew out on a brisk wind. Yes, she had asked for him. But she only had to ask because he was never around in the first place. Those words, so sweet on first impression, now choked the life out of Carlisle; had he required functioning air passages, he might have suffocated from his own panic.

Edward quickly attempted to intervene with a matching look of panic, particularly when he espied his father's gestures turn towards a form of hyperventilation, but Carlisle roughly shook his head in the negative. Taking his precious grandchild away at that moment would only make the situation ten times worse. Each and every fear that Carlisle had imagined since finding out about Renesmee's rapid growth cycle hit him full in the face, a revelation too powerful to withstand. Realizing how few years Renesmee had to live, how much Carlisle would regret it if he did not spend as much time as possible with her before the terribly disheartening end came... it all infused him with such a desire to hold his little grandbaby close that he feared he would strangle her out of desperation. Taking care to avoid that undesirable course, Carlisle crushed Renesmee's bronze curls under his chin and contained his harsh breathing as tightly as possible so as not to frighten her.

From his frozen stance a foot away, Edward registered all of Carlisle's wayward emotions with grim understanding in his topaz eyes. Even without his father's thoughts, Edward knew from the look on his face what was going on upstairs. As humiliating as his emotional exhibition was, Carlisle somehow found himself unable to look away from his son's eyes. They gazed at each other with mutual terror, until Edward propelled himself forward with suspiciously glassy eyes to crush both Carlisle and Renesmee into the same debilitating embrace.

Renesmee clearly understood more about this moment than Carlisle had expected her to. Warm heartbeats and calm breaths fluttered sedately and comfortingly in her body while she merely allowed her father and grandfather to assuage their shared grief. Perhaps she did not know what they were sad about, but their little gem knew enough to help them the only way she could.

As the moment stretched out into several minutes, Edward dropped his head down onto Carlisle's one shoulder that did not currently house Renesmee's own little head. Somehow, the movement comforted Carlisle as much as it must have done for Edward; it gave them solidarity.

After a time, Edward pulled back enough that Renesmee could sit straight, but his arm remained wrapped around Carlisle's shoulders comfortingly.

"I didn't do that to make you feel bad, grandpa." Renesmee spoke suddenly, gently patting the side of Carlisle's face with her little hand, a slew of images flashing incoherently in the process. "You're too nice for that. And I know you're trying to take care of me… But I wanted you to know how much I love spending time with you. I love it when you read to me and tell wonderful stories. I love drawing with you and playing games with you and a lot of other things. I just missed you, Grandpa."

"I missed you just as much," Carlisle told her weakly, valiantly trying to hold in the tremble of his voice. Edward's firm arm was just about the only thing that helped. "I am not – and never have been – angry with you. I love spending time with you, too. It's just that I couldn't stand the thought of losing you if there was any way of preventing it. So I kept searching for a way to save you. But by doing that I wasted time that we could have spent together. Can you forgive me, sweetheart?"

"Of course I will," the little girl said sweetly, a wide smile gracing her features. "What a silly question to ask. You're my grandpa. I'll always forgive you."

Genuine laughter bubbled out of Carlisle over Renesmee's logic, but he could not fault her for it.

"Thank you," Carlisle finally told her with a little chuckle, kissing both sides of her rosy face with deep gratitude. Giggling, Renesmee copied his gesture, then quickly decided to do the same to her smiling father. Edward laughed out loud and matched her kisses, adding a special one on her forehead.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" Carlisle asked thoughtfully of his granddaughter.

Renesmee frowned slightly, face turning pensive for all of minute before she came up with something.

"Give me a special name, Grandpa," she demanded strongly, making Edward fake a cough into his hand to cover light laughter.

"What kind of special name?" Carlisle asked, blinking in surprise.

"Something no one else calls me," the little one continued to command him. There was such determination in those brown eyes that Carlisle could not say no.

But to be truthful, Carlisle had only ever called Renesmee the usual sweet names. And honestly, she was so special that there were few names that he could use. Except… "Well… what about… um…"

As an odd little name danced in Carlisle's mind like a flag of surrender waving to the enemy, Edward coughed far more violently than before. Renesmee looked concernedly at her father for a moment, wondering what on earth he was coughing about, but when Edward appeared to be calm the little girl turned back to her grandfather with that same demanding expression. From the shaking around Carlisle's shoulders, he could tell that Edward continued to laugh silently so Renesmee would not know.

"What about what, Grandpa?" the little one asked curiously.

"Well, I thought of a name," the doctor hedged, "Not all that many minutes ago, actually. But you might think it's rather silly, sweetheart."

"Of course it won't be," she insisted confusedly. "Not if it's a name from you, Grandpa."

Edward began to tremble even harder with his amusement, only now it was beginning to irritate Carlisle. He had just faced a severe emotional breakdown over the precious child in his arms and when attempting to pay back his debt of quality time somehow, his son was laughing at him. Was this so amusing when Renesmee might not be around to use her new nickname for very long?

In an instant, Edward's arm froze around his father's shoulders and his features took on the look of a deer in the headlights. Carlisle realized his mistake too late.

Renesmee spoke before Carlisle could even think of a suitable apology, "What's my special name?"

"Little Gem," Carlisle whispered belatedly, absently, feeling awful for the pain he had just inadvertently caused his eldest child. Edward, however, squeezed his shoulder in understanding, eyes just as apologetic as his father's thoughts.

"Really?" Renesmee chirped happily, seemingly oblivious to the despair and pain around her this time. "I like that name, Grandpa. Thank you."

"You're welcome, little one," Carlisle whispered still, but finally looked back at his grandchild's cheerful face. Her happiness was so welcome, so vital to the joy of the entire family that he could not resist smiling at her. His little gem.

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A/N: I love Carlisle more than words than say and the thought of him with a little one, whether his grandchild or his own child, is adorable. :)

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